Satisfaction Brought Him Back
by entropicecho
Summary: Dorian has been lusting after the elven Inquisitor, but the Iron Bull got into his bed first. As Dorian tries to think of a way to solve his problem, he walks in on Lavellan and Bull in a scene that's very revealing of their relationship. Curiosity killed the cat, but... Big, smutty content warning.


Dorian wished he was back in Minrathous.

Sure, it was his choice to come here, sure, Minrathous was corrupt, and sure, he couldn't just stand by while fanatics claiming to love Tevinter more than he were intent on destroying the world. All that aside, he missed being able to get a good bottle of wine, and the witty repartee of a good party, and at a really good party, he could always find someone who'd want to take the banter to the bedroom. Here at Skyhold, on the other hand, whatever the surly dwarven barkeep had poured into his glass could hardly be called wine, and the prettiest man he'd ever seen in his life was leaning into the side of a thrice-damned Qunari, who'd thrown his beefy arm around the slender shoulders of the elven Inquisitor.

Dorian sighed peevishly and took a reluctant gulp of his swill. He could've sworn the Inquisitor had liked the look of him; how could he not? And surely Dorian had not imagined the way Lavellan had responded to his wit. Yet, there was no mistaking that the damned Iron Bull had gotten there first. His jealous eyes didn't miss it when their noble leader had shown up with the marks of passion lining his throat; the small, secret smile he'd sent the way of the Qunari. Dorian's stomach had clenched with envy then, he'd been so sure he would be the one to seduce the elf. Damn Lavellan! That white gold hair, golden vallaslin trailing glowing lines over tanned skin, pale blue eyes ringed with darker blue in a way that gave his eyes such depth... Fasta vass, if he'd been a slave in Tevinter, Dorian had no doubt he would've been an exceedingly expensive, prized, and pampered pet. Dorian prided himself on never having indulged in a pleasure slave, considered himself above such things, more than capable of getting a willing partner, thank you, but if he'd seen that one at a party... Shining with oil, kohl around those pale eyes, lips painted red, clad only in a silken loincloth...

He tore his eyes away, catching the Bull smirking in his direction as he gulped his terrible wine and stood, barely wobbling. He was an Altus of Tevinter, after all, he could hold his wine, he thought as he hurried into the cold night air. It was his libido he couldn't handle, apparently, he thought wryly, heading for the battlements. A bit of fresh night air, that would take the edge off. He found himself leaning against a crenellation, staring unseeing at the mountains, mentally sorting the nobles he'd seen at Skyhold who he might try pursuing to solve his problem. A bit of fresh night air was nice and all, but it was no cure for the tightness in his belly. He had to travel with that damned beautiful elf, after all, and hear the teasing remarks from the others about his tryst with the Qunari.

Perhaps the novelty would wear off soon and Dorian would be able to step in, he mused. After all, from what he knew of the Qun, it didn't leave a lot of room for romance. Granted, the Iron Bull had betrayed the Qun to save his men, which he thought admirable and surprising, but nonetheless, if it hadn't come down to that choice, Bull would've remained dedicated. Dorian found himself picturing the two together. Massive, hulking, grey-skinned Qunari; slight, tanned, white-haired elf... Surely they couldn't last, one was practically a literal bull in a china shop, the other was... well, fine china. Perhaps not so delicate as that, but the Inquisitor looked like he was made of gold and spun silk, and picturing the Qunari's huge, rough hands sliding over that smooth, golden skin...

This is not helping, Dorian scolded himself, shifting as he felt his pants tightening again. Maybe another glass of terrible wine would help him sleep without imagining Lavellan out of his armour again. With a sigh, he pushed himself up to standing and went to take the shortcut from the battlements to the pub, pushing open the door to the abandoned room that... was not currently abandoned. Dorian stopped short, the light from a lantern and a half dozen candles revealed a figure, arms over their head, and as Dorian's eyes adjusted he realised it was Lavellan. His arms were bound wrist to elbow, a rope leading from his wrists, over a rafter, and tied to a hook. His legs were each wrapped to the knee in rope, and tied to posts, a network of ropes and knots bound his torso, including a loop around the base of his cock, standing very much at attention, his eyes bound by a cloth. Dorian felt lightheaded as all of the blood in his body rushed to his nether regions, eyes wide, mouth agape, he stared at Lavellan's body, tied so tightly from floor to ceiling, he seemed as taut as a bowstring. Suddenly there was a loud crack, and the Inquisitor's whole body, including his dick, jumped with the shock, as the Iron Bull stepped into view, naked as well, holding a leather strap. He smiled at Dorian, sliding his fingers up Lavellan's stomach, his chest, taking his chin in his massive hand and kissing him roughly, possessively.

"We have company, Kadan, Dorian wants to satisfy his curiosity. You know what to say if you want me to stop." Iron Bull smiled, rubbing the elf's lip affectionately as he removed the blindfold. Those pale blue eyes blinked up at the Qunari, smiling up at him adoringly before turning to look for Dorian.

The poor Tevinter mage had never been so shocked. He stood frozen by the door, cock throbbing in his pants, drinking in a sight he'd never imagined. Dimly, he heard the Iron Bull tell him to close the door, and he pushed it shut without ever removing his eyes from all that golden skin. Bull had walked around behind him again, trailing the leather strap over the elf's skin, and Dorian saw his eyes flutter with pleasure. The leather strap rose and fell, but gently, and he heard the elf hiss in disappointed anticipation.

"Please, Bull," Lavellan gasped, his body quivering.

"Please what?" Bull replied, amusement in his deep voice, trailing the leather strap up the elf's arched back.

"Don't hold back, Bull," Lavellan said clearly, looking at Dorian, seeming to consider something, then closed his eyes, "Please, set me free." He murmured, and Bull leaned in and kissed his shoulder before raising the strap and bringing it down fast and hard. Over and over he swung, the strap cracking loudly against flesh, striking the elf's lean thighs, his ass, his back. The bound Inquisitor gasped and yelped, bound cock jumping, begging, begging, begging...

Suddenly Dorian realized that Lavellan's begging for relief was not to the Bull, but to the Inquisition. "It's too much, it's too much," he gasped, and as the strap fell again, he cried out, "YES set me free, set me free, don't rely on me, I'm not a savior..." CRACK "AH Maker I'm not, I'm not, I'm not..." Through the haze of his intense arousal, Dorian felt a pang of sympathy for the Inquisitor. Of course all this responsibility must be bearing on him, and all of it so suddenly, and accompanied by so many near-death experiences.

The Iron Bull set aside the strap once Lavellan was limp against his restraints and his begging turned into babbling. He stepped up behind the elf and wrapped his arm around his waist, holding him tightly to him as he nuzzled the elf's neck, nipping and kissing up his jaw to capture his mouth. Lavellan moaned wantonly, shifting his hips against the Qunari, and Dorian found his hand easing the pressure in his trousers. Bull glanced up at him, planting a love bite on Lavellan's shoulder.

"Hmmmm," The Iron Bull mused, reaching up to untie the knot around the hook that held Lavellan's arms suspended, "What do you say, Kadan, should we let poor Dorian in on the fun?" And he let through enough rope that the elf fell forward, bent double, the Qunari's heavy cock rubbing between his cheeks.

Lavellan looked up from his new, somewhat more vulnerable position, and smiled at Dorian, "Well, you did say he was curious..."

Dorian's eyes went wide and he stared at Lavellan's perfect lips, the lips he'd imagined doing so many things... The lips gasped and the eyes fluttered as Bull slid an oiled finger into his entrance, his body rocking gently against his restraints. Dorian stepped forward, gulping, somehow more nervous then he could ever remember being. Yet, it was his dumb luck to stumble onto this scene, and it may be his only chance to see those lips wrapped around him the way they had been in his imagination, so many times.

He undid his trousers, freeing himself, and stroked his fingers through white gold hair, damp with sweat and even softer than he'd imagined. Lavellan looked up at him, his pupils wide with arousal, and licked up the length of Dorian's cock as Iron Bull rocked him forward with a second finger. He was suckling teasingly at the head when Bull pressed his thick member at his slick entrance. He sucked his mouth tight and wet around Dorian, moaning around him, and letting Bull push him forward, both men sliding into him slowly, wetly, tightly.

Dorian nearly came right then, watching the full lips tight around him, his cock sliding deeper, glancing up to see his slim body stretching around that seemingly impossibly thick cock, a darker grey than the rest of Iron Bull's skin, a network of bruises and welts marring the perfect gold skin between them, the great and noble Herald of Andraste moaning and relaxing his throat around the head of his cock. The Iron Bull gripped his hips, big fingers tight over fading bruises and snapped his hips with a grunt, Lavellan arching and squirming, moaning helplessly around Dorian's cock. He rubbed his thumbs in circles on the elves haunches until he relaxed around him, the elf eagerly suckling at Dorian as he adjusted. Then Bull slapped his ass sharply, gripping his hips tightly, and started thrusting slowly at first, but quickly building up to a punishing pace. Dorian felt his balls tightening as the elf's beautiful mouth slid back and forth on him at the same fast pace; how Lavellan wasn't splitting down the middle he couldn't quite comprehend. He looked up at Bull, all those enormous muscles bulging with strain, scarred face twisted into a grimace as he grunted and growled, a golem of iron and smoke rutting like an animal into that tight body made of gold and silk...

Dorian dug his fingers into silken hair and came with a thrust and a gasping cry, hips jerking as he came harder than he could ever remember, white dots dancing in his vision as he felt the Inquisitor gag on his cock and he reluctantly fell back, fortunately finding a chair not far as he doubted his legs could hold him as he watched a shining string break between his cock and Lavellan's tongue, the elf's mouth gasping and crying out wordlessly. A few minutes more and Bull pulled at a rope, releasing the loop around the Inquisitor's cock and his orgasm at the same time. He arched like a bow, Bull pulling him even tighter by the ropes on his back, a guttural, choking cry wringing out of him as he came, rope after rope of his delayed orgasm. Dorian could only imagine how he spasmed around Bull's cock as the Qunari slammed once more against the elf's hips, massive body shaking with the power of his own orgasm.

When he finally slid out of him the only sounds in the room were their panting breaths, the faint sounds of the minstrel in the pub below, and Lavellan whimpering at the sudden emptiness. Bull knelt and untied the ankles first, then the wrists, picking up the limp elf and laying him down on the shadowed bed. Carefully, patiently, he untied all of the knots, kneading the skin underneath, laying kisses wear the ropes had left bruises. Gently, he rolled the Inquisitor onto his belly, picked up a jar of salve from the table nearby, and treated the welts from the leather strap. By the time he was done, the elf was asleep and breathing deeply, utterly relaxed. Bull pulled the comforter up over him, and turned to pick up his trousers.

"Buy you a drink?" He smirked at Dorian as he buckled his belt.

Clearing his throat, Dorian refastened his own trousers, "After that, I might need a bottle," He quipped wryly.

Bull laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "Come on, he needs his rest anyway." He closed the door behind them and they started down the stairs, "So, is your curiosity satisfied?"

"OY! What's with shakin' the bloody rafters? And where's his worshipfulness? You didn't kill 'im did you, we still need him for Corypheenuts!" Sera shouted from her seat near the stairs, swinging a mug their direction for emphasis.

Bull scruffed her head affectionately as they passed, "Might be walking a little crooked in the morning, but not dead, Sera, never fear."

"Eeeewwww how do you guys even work? Don't explain it to me!" Sera clapped her hands over her ears, they could still hear her giggling as they descended the stairs and settled at a table in the corner, signalling the barmaid.

"So... That's how you and our Herald occupy yourselves." Dorian mused as he poured himself a glass.

"Yep; and it probably goes without saying, what happens behind closed doors is between him and me. You got a taste, but that's no guarantee you'll be invited back... And the goddamned nobility doesn't need any help with rumours." Bull glanced at him pointedly, taking a pull from his mug. "Not that I think you're that stupid, and he wouldn't have let you stay if he didn't trust you - but just to be clear."

"Crystal." Dorian considered the Qunari, replaying what he'd seen now that the combined haze of shock, arousal, and orgasm was fading. "You care for him. And... the way you treat him, it's a relief for him. A reprieve from command."

"Yeah. The Tamassrans are trained in such methods. The Qun requires such strict adherence, it helps to have a safe space to let out dangerous feelings; to be made to let them out. The Inquisitor... He was just an elf from a roaming Dalish clan like any other. He came here expecting to observe other Big, Important People discuss Big, Important Things. Not to pass through the damned Fade, be suspected of mass murder, be revealed as the saviour of the damned world, and thrust to the head of an organization rebelling against the Chantry and demanding the respect of kings and queens. All while traipsing across all of Orlais and Ferelden, saving the common man while the nobles, who claim ownership but not responsibility, bicker and look on. He needs a place where he can forget all that, where a door closes and he's not in charge anymore. He doesn't have to think." The Iron Bull shrugged, "I saw what he needed and I offered it."

Dorian thought about that, remembered the babbling begging that the leather strap had wrought from the elf. How Lavellan had relaxed, limp against the ropes, how hard he came when allowed release, how quickly he'd fallen asleep, trusting Bull's ministrations. So much for no romance from the Qunari. He cleared his throat, pulling his mind back as his groin stirred again, "Yes, well. I still wish I'd gotten to him first."

Iron Bull laughed loudly, clapping Dorian on the back, "Aye, I bet you fucking do!"

Dorian winced, and mused about how he could get invited back in. From Bull's attitude, he knew he'd have to go through the Inquisitor, but truth be told, his curiosity wasn't _quite_ satisfied; he was now certain he needed to see that skin shining with oil. Maybe Skyhold wasn't so bad after all, he thought, sipping wine that suddenly tasted sweeter.


End file.
